Chapter 6
Cut conversations were what got to me. Even the famous singer performing Solstice songs doesn’t make up for the instant silence. Instant staring.
One thought plays on repeat as I stroll through the rows of polished benches in the gathering hall.
If I trip over, I will be the gossip of the century yet again.
That realisation alone makes me raise my chin high and put one foot after the other, concentrating on the tap of my heels on the marble floor.
My stomach sinks as I walk by those who once respected me, friends and allies who now turn away.
I pass a family who used to dine with us every Solstice, always bringing gifts for me and Trisha. Now I don’t even dare to interpret their scowls.
Especially not now, with my nemesis walking straight towards me.
Fuck this day.
Unlike me, her steps are oozing with confidence, her hips sweep, and her superior grin lights up her heart-shaped face and narrow, calculating eyes. She also has a friend on her arm.
Not like me at all.
“Seleste, are you here for another mass execution?” Zulu mocks. OUT LOUD.
In the past, she wouldn’t have dared to say anything like that in front of a crowd.
Humiliation. That’s the only word for the heat spreading across my cheeks. She can tell. Her lips arch into a smirk
The storm inside me stirs with a violent need to deliver exactly what she is asking for.
I need to do better. I need to remain calm.
The fight to contain the cursed power slows my response, and Zulu reads my silence as discomfort, or defence, or her winning the argument, and I hate that she is correct in that assumption.
She raises a brow and lifts her chin higher. Maybe her neck will snap?
“The truth hurts, huh?”
Her friend Nina, the Santorili priest’s daughter, pinches her. My humiliation only deepens when I don’t find any smart retorts for Zulu, so I smile as she is beneath me and let Nina play it out for me.
“Be nice,” Nina hisses and shoots me a dimpled smile. “Nice to see you, Seleste. Are you here for the Solstice celebration? My father would love to have you attend.”
Why is it always something?
“You know me, I wouldn’t miss the party.” I sway my hips, accentuating the hidden meaning.
“We know you, that’s the problem,” Zulu sneers, her manicured fingers wagging, then points to her temple, making a circle.
“You are a charmer, like always. Are you sure you are related to Jestin?” I make a production of looking for him and I find him near the stage, talking to Samira’s mate.
“Don’t mind her.” Nina slips an arm around me, and my whole body stiffens. She sighs, the sound full of weary irritation, as if giving me an inch of space is too much to ask, but she eases her hold.
Unfortunately, she doesn’t actually step away.
Worse, she leans to fake whisper in my ear. “Zulunda’s crush didn’t ask her out, so she is sulking.” She lowers her tone theatrically, looking at her friend, who glares at her with the expression usually reserved for me. “She’s a little extra today, because of it.”
“Gods spared him.” I smile, pleased to finally land a proper hit. “Good for him.”
“Are you trying to insult me?” Zulu asks.
No shit.
“That depends—do you find the truth insulting?” My tone drips with sugar, the kind I save just for her. From the corner of my eye, I spot Jestin strolling towards me.
I finally dismiss Zulu and Nina, and immediately regret it when I see their shocked expressions.
Old habits die hard; I can count it as the first misstep of the day.
I turn to Jestin, already wearing a holiday robe and looking extra good this morning. When his face brightens the moment he catches my stare, I am smitten once again.
“Nothing could make my Solstice brighter than your presence, Seleste.” His deep voice effortlessly carries across the room, and he bows at the waist, maintaining eye contact with me. Then he straightens, glancing at his sister with a mocking expression.
I more than admire the jab.
“Thank you for the feast…” I find myself smiling, “..and for the mead. It was a treat.”
Nina bows, then drags Zulu to the first row, the latter wearing a particularly ugly scoff.
Ha, eat this, you shit face.
Jestin winks as we are left alone before he offers me his arm and leads us towards Nulok, standing near the stage.
“And here I was, betting against Nulok that you’d bolt into the night. You cost me ten golds.” He uses that entertaining tone reserved for public speaking, but his green eyes are warm.
A warmth that breeds butterflies in my stomach.
Nulok grins, looking unfairly good despite the messy, copper hair, dove blue eyes and freckles that never quite suited any Fae. “Hi, Seleste. I’m sorry you missed our mating. Hopefully we can count you in for the anniversary?”
Before I can come up with an excuse, he pulls me into a hug. My body stiffens on instinct, but after a heartbeat, I let myself relax into it.
“I’m sorry, Nulok,” I breathe into his chest.
“What was that?” He teases, and lets me slip out of his embrace.
My cheeks are too warm when I pull away, and of course, Jestin notices, but he doesn’t comment.
“We understand,” he says softly, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry about it.”
The easy acceptance tightens my throat. He’s better than any of us. Fae hold grudges, but not him. He has more empathy than the mind healers, and it’s impossible not to like him, even if he doesn’t particularly care for company.
He has affection for only three things: Samira, Jestin, and his books.
Jestin recognised his loyalty and particular set of skills, and the moment he inherited his lordship, he offered Nulok a position as his aide, making him the second most powerful Fae in Santorili.
I nod, grateful. “Nulok is a better judge of character.”
Nulok’s dove-blue eyes hold mine. “Jestin always had trouble seeing past his feelings for you.”
“Oh, that hurt.” Jestin grabs his heart, as if in pain, before continuing in a more solemn, but still teasing, tone. “Your actions are hard to predict nowadays, Seleste.”
“The first rule of successful courting, according to Madam Narose, is to keep the male guessing,” I use the same tone.
“Right, I’ll see you at the meeting, Sels?” Nulok asks, and Jestin’s entire body stiffens. “I mean… at the Summer Solstice party,” Nulok corrects himself.
What was that?
“Sure,” I reply, and Nulok tilts his chin towards us before heading off to find Samira.
“Mating looks good on him,” I say with a small smile.
“He’s insufferable,” Jestin mutters, rolling his eyes. “The ceremony only strengthened his absolute adoration for his female.”
“Are you jealous of his happiness?” I tease, but his stare pins me, sharp, strange, and far too intense.
“Every fucking day,” he says quietly. “Every fucking day I watch Samira look at him like that, while my love keeps avoiding my gaze.”
“Believe me, you’re better off without me. I only ever bring you misery.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and now they hang in the air between us, raw and irretrievable.
He steps closer, fingers tilting my chin up until I have no choice but to meet his eyes. “You, Seleste, are the source of everything good in my life, even if you’re a mess.”
“Right...” I say, turning my gaze to the singer finishing his performance.
“Shall we?” Jestin offers me his arm, and I hang onto him like a Solstice decoration, desperate to stay perched for the next season.
He makes me feel safe, like he is my personal shield against the scrutiny of the court and honestly, he is. No one’s stupid enough to give him a dirty look.
He leads me to the centre of the room. Linked by our arms, Jestin leans in and whispers next to my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
“By the way, I admire the effort. You certainly keep me on my toes,” he winks, as if we’re the only ones here.
He’s bold enough to wink at me before everyone. Me, the disgraced Seleste Berigander.
Freaking butterflies threaten to drill a hole in my stomach; that’s how affected I am.
“And I thought I needed to work on my game,” I grin, despite hoping to appear teasing and mysterious.
“I will play whatever game you want, darling.”
I’m freaking blushing, which makes him smirk just like he did when he was going down on me.
Trouble!
Fortunately or not, he takes pity on me and changes the subject. “Are you joining me upstairs?” Jestin points his head meaningfully to the stage and kills all the beautiful creations in my stomach.
And who is a mass murderer now?
Fuck.
I shouldn’t joke about that.
No High Queen would ever let other nobles address the crowd instead of her. My Grams would have hung him for suggesting otherwise, yet I am not her.
I shake my head and Jestin sighs in exasperation, but respects my wish and waits for me to sit in the first row. I don’t want to, but I don’t want to cause a scene even more, so I wait for Zulu to move her ass down the aisle.
She’s just as happy about that as I am.
When I finally sit in the most uncomfortable place I can, he asks, hovering above me. “Next time?” He waits for me to respond, and soon all eyes are on us.
Fucker.
“Sure,” I agree, and he lets the subject drop. Jestin smiles like he’s just won the Fool’s Festival. If he doesn’t stop pestering me, I’ll make sure he looks exactly like that — battered, as if he’d been thrown into Fae jail and forced to fight in the arena for decades to win back his freedom.
I’ll just need to find a few brutes still loyal to me, ones who won’t flinch at raising their hands against a Sand Lord. Given Jestin’s vicious reputation, that might not be easy.
He glides to the centre of the stage, his steps graceful and deliberate. The Fae in the room fasten their attention as they take their seats.
The dark, ugly feeling settles in place of the butterflies. I will never command attention like him. To him, being a leader is as natural as being a failure is to me.
Suck it up, you melted candle. You deserve it. You had your chance and you blew it.